


Issues

by KrakenCodex (Eghfeithrean)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Hunk is a good friend, Klance Valentine's Exchange 2017, Klance argue what else is new, Lack of Communication, M/M, Relationship Trouble, but they're trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9884861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eghfeithrean/pseuds/KrakenCodex
Summary: For Keith and Lance, arguing is as natural as breathing. But sometimes it's deeper than their usual squabbles, sometimes it hurts.And sometimes you have to work past your pride and talk things out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My ~~late~~ Klance Valentine's gift for LordZarcock! I hope you had a nice Valentine's Day and enjoy your gift~ 
> 
> This is... longer than I'd originally planned. Oops.  
> There were some challenges, but it was fun to write! I'd like to explore Klance working through their issues more in the future.

While they made a good pair and had the capability to be harmonious, it went without saying that Keith and Lance were oftentimes found snapping at one another.

Not to say that they hated each other, quite the contrary. For the most part it was over trivial things, lighthearted bickering whose heated feelings never seemed to last more than half an hour after the spat in question. When alone or when things were going particularly well, it toned down to half-hearted playful quips. They got along fine, really. They were just quick to voice their opinions and quicker to challenge, always spurring for the rush of adrenaline and competition, and while it may not be the healthiest method it worked for them for the most part.

But sometimes -not often but sometimes- it was more serious. And what was usually a competitive spark became a roaring inferno, white-hot with raw emotion and anger. Searing instead of invigorating.

It was a messy, soul-draining affair.

  
“- hell were you doing? You could’ve gotten us killed! You could’ve been killed! Did you think about that?”

“I’m sorry, am I hearing this right? Mr. _I’m Gonna Fly Straight Into A Tractor Beam? Mr. I’m Gonna Face Zarkon Head-On All By Myself_?!”

Keith glowered, squaring his shoulders. His helmet rest forgotten at his feet where he’d tossed it in his anger, and now he stood nearly toe-to-toe with Lance in the Lion’s main hangar.  
Rage seeped from them both, their faces scrunched into near identical levels of venom.

A mission complete, but a botched mission nonetheless. A team battered and bruised and disgusted. Now wasn’t the time for it, but the frustration was still fresh. The adrenaline and residual panic of potential failure still coursed through their veins. They needed an outlet and, as always, the other was there to stoke the flames of aggression.

“Shiro needed help,” he shot back, “I was the only one fast enough to reach him in time. And that was one _time_ , you would’ve done the same damn thing if you’d-”

“ _Enough_.”

Shiro placed himself bodily between the two, a hand on both of their chests to keep them from throwing fists. Keith’s hands were clenched tight, and while he was pretty sure Keith wouldn’t actually throw a punch he didn’t want to risk it.

Pidge and Hunk had retreated to a safe distance and watched the proceedings wearily, unwilling to involve themselves unless absolutely necessary.

They were tired, they were all tired, and letting emotions run hot wouldn’t solve anything.

“Look, what happened out there today is on all of us. We all made mistakes, and we need to-”

“Oh so it was an _accident_ that you took on that battleship?” Lance quipped. “What, did you fly too far off course and-”

“I _saved_ your ass from getting blown up!”

Keith railed against the strength of Shiro’s Galran prosthetic; he was almost doubled over it trying to get back in Lance’s face.  
If Lance had even a fraction of Shiro’s strength, he might’ve done the same.

“Is that what it was? You saving me? Because I think me and Hunk had it _covered_ , thank you very much.”

“If you had listened to _orders_ , then maybe you would’ve-”

“That’s rich coming from _you_.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like!”

“ _KNOCK IT OFF_.” Shiro barked.

But for once Keith was too fired up to obey. His emotions, raw and scalding, bubbled up upon his tongue, grievance after frustrated grievance finally rearing their nasty heads in a tidal wave after being quashed and suppressed for so long. At this point he couldn’t stop it if he tried.

“Well if you didn’t keep trying to _show off_ ,” he snarled, “then _maybe_ Shiro wouldn’t have been cornered in the first place!”

At that point Pidge had Keith’s arms in her grasp, trying with all her might to hold him back. Shiro held him off with his forearm laid against Keith’s chestplate. On his other side, Hunk had wrapped his arm around Lance’s slim torso for dear life; though strong, he clung rather than pinned, unwilling to potentially harm his friend.

Vaguely they could hear Allura calling to them through their helmet’s communications channels, but at the moment they had different priorities.

“ _Who’s_ the one showing off? You’re always the one charging into things and blowing shit up without stopping to _think_ for a goddamn second!”

“C’mon guys,” Hunk tried to reason, “let’s just back off, and…”

“AT LEAST I DID SOMETHING!”

“AND YOU ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF IT!”

It was as if something had shattered.

The resounding silence rang in their ears, a white noise that slowly bled back into Keith audible pants for breath.

He’d stopped struggling. They both had.

  
Tentatively, Hunk cracked open an eye to peer up at Lance. His friend’s mouth was a thin hard line, frozen in anger. And hurt.

Pidge and Shiro loosened their hold on Keith but didn’t let go, not yet. The shift in the atmosphere was practically tangible, and they eyed the proceedings cautiously, nervously. Where this situation was headed, no one could say.

  
And then Lance’s shoulders drooped, his hands bunched into quivering fists.

“You know what?” he began, voice deadly soft.

“… Fine.”

Stiffly he peeled himself out of Hunk’s hold and strode out into the hallway.

“Lance, wait-” Shiro called. And in that moment Keith pulled himself away and stormed off in the opposite direction.

They left the others in silence.

Pidge looked at up Hunk, then Shiro.

“Well now what?”

 

* * *

 

It was Hunk who had come to him.

He had expected it; Hunk knew Lance best and had cheered him up plenty of times in the past. He had experience with this. Hunk was the best man for the job.

Lance was propped up against the wall of his bunk, lanky arms wrapped around his knees with a pillow in between. The lights were low in his room, a reflection of his mood; the white-hot anger from before had extinguished into cold lifeless ashes. The caustic thoughts hummed in his mind, all jumbled and amplified tenfold here in the emptiness.  
He would never understand how silence could be so deafening, so paradoxically stifling.

How did Keith enjoy this, how did he find comfort in silence? It was so terribly lonely.

But Hunk got him. He understood that. And when he knocked on Lance’s door and poked his head in, he was casual as always.

He was also to the point.

“Hey man, you wanna talk about it? I brought cookies.”

He lifted up a plate piled with garish pink offerings helpfully.

For a split second Lance thought about saying no - he always considered it- but relented with a deep exhale through his nose as always. It was Hunk, after all.  
He wiggled towards the head of his bed a fraction and patted the space beside him. It was impossible to say no, not when faced with Hunk’s calm companionship and his own desire to shed his self-prescribed solitary.

The bed dipped under Hunk’s added weight, a gentle divot that had Lance tilting sideways to lean against the warmth of his shoulder.

Even sitting there quietly, Hunk’s presence was enough to soften the blows of his own thoughts and the cacophony of the silence that had plagued him just before. Lance absorbed the companionable silence like a sponge until he finally felt capable of speech, revitalized even if just a fraction.

“So what kind of cookies are those, anyway?”

His head raised gently with the motion when Hunk shrugged.

“Some weird alien spice. I think- ceflum, Coran said? It kinda tastes like ginger and cinnamon but… not. And cardamom. I don’t know, I went for a gingersnap recipe. It tastes pretty good though.”

He held one out in front of Lance.

It _smelled_ ok. And yeah, a lot like cinnamon. Enough to be nostalgic but _just_ different enough to be noticeably alien. It was still warm from the oven, too. And everything Hunk had cooked had been edible -downright delicious, really- so far, so…

Lance nibbled at a crisped edge and chewed thoughtfully. Yeah, definitely gingersnap-like. Hunk was a genius.

“Not bad.”

He widened his mouth and chomped down on the rest of it, effectively pulling it out of Hunk’s grasp to dangle from his mouth.

“Aw dude,” Hunk whined, brushing crumbs off of his pant legs, “you’re gonna get space ants.”

Lance only hummed in response.

He used his munching to collect his thoughts, pull them together and weave them into words. They were hard to pinpoint beneath all the layers of emotion, but he dredged them up and sifted through them like shells in sand. Turned each one over in his hand. Studied it.

Then finally-

“I hate it.”

Hunk jerked back aghast.

“My cookies?!”

Lance snorted and smushed his head back against his friend’s arm, squashing his face against it to hide his amusement.

“Nooooo. Keith. This, “ he gestured helplessly, fishing for words, “fighting thing. Blaming each other. It sucks. I’m just so… tired.”

Tired to the point of exhaustion and his body throbbing in perpetual ache yes, but also tired of the miscommunication. Of the bitterness. Of the not-so-friendly competitiveness that still lingered in the recesses of Lance’s consciousness.

He thought he’d gotten over that.

“Hmm.” Hunk popped a cookie into his own mouth. “I get you. Trust me dude, we’re tired of it, too.”

He backtracked, catching the apologetic downturn of Lance’s mouth.

“I mean not of you guys, just the fighting. You obviously love each other, I just don’t get why you can’t communicate.”

Lance scoffed and peered up at him. “Have you ever tried talking to him about personal crap? That guy’s like a brick wall! A _spork_ is easier to talk to than him.”

“Okay, one:,” Hunk began, raising a finger, “no, not really. Two: sporks are well-rounded and are comfortable in their status as a superior utensil. And three: you’re hard to talk to sometimes, too.”

Lance’s sputter was so obnoxious it was almost rude. Like, spittle-flying rude. Not on the cookies though; spare the cookies.

“I talk to people _all_ the time,” he insisted, “I’m talking to you right now! What haven’t I told you? Seriously, what.”

He’d confided all kinds of stuff in Hunk, back since their early Garrison days. Missing his family, his feelings of inadequacy, venting stress and anger and frustration. That he actually loved Keith. Hunk had always been his sounding board, ever the voice of cautious reason.

Keith probably hadn’t had much experience with it because of his circumstances and personality, but Lance was a talker. He had no problem speaking his mind and opening up to people.

 _But why then_ , a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind, _don’t you ever talk things out with Keith?_

He chose to ignore it.

  
“Well, sometimes you just keep stuff to yourself, you know?” Hunk shrugged. “Like, you bottle it in. And that’s cool, we all do it, some stuff you just don’t wanna share, you know? And I don’t mind listening to you -I’m always here for you man- but shouldn’t you be telling all that to your boyfriend?”

Hunk looked him straight in the eye then, brown meeting blue, steady and reasonable. Kind, but honest. Because that’s what friends are.

“You tell me all the time about how much you love Keith and how he ticks you off, but have you ever told Keith any of that? I dunno, I think if you guys were more honest with each other you wouldn’t fight as much.”

Or… maybe he couldn’t ignore it after all.

Ouch.

He wanted to make excuses, he really did -was trying to now, frantically, stringing together half-assed reasons to explain himself- but Hunk would see right through it. He’d call him out on it; not to hurt Lance, but because he knew it was what Lance needed to hear.  
It didn’t make it easier to swallow, but it did make him think. It made him confront all the things he’d been dancing around ever since he’d met Keith.

He sighed, shoulders slumping. It wouldn’t be fun, but there was that saying wasn’t there, “nothing worth keeping is ever easy”?

Lance was no quitter, and he wasn’t starting now.

  
“Thanks man.”

“Don’t mention it. Any time.”

“Can I have another cookie?”

“Save some for everybody else!”

“Never.”

  
Hunk really was the best.

 

* * *

 

More often than not Keith’s go-to place for down time and releasing aggression was the training deck, so that’s where Lance headed next.

His stubborn pride recoiled against the realization that he was the one giving in first, the first to break their silence, but he squashed that beneath his figurative thumb. Hunk was right; they needed to let go of stupid things like personal pride and sit down and talk things out, for the sake of their relationship and also the team, or else they’d wind up back at square one again in an endless, exhaustive cycle.

And anyway, experience taught him that this was less of a case of Keith being prideful and giving him the cold shoulder than it was simply losing track of time. When Keith was training, he focused on little else.

In a way, their approaches to handling post-argument were similar in that they ultimately resolved nothing; Keith just channeled his energy into productivity and losing himself to it, while Lance drowned in his own thoughts.

Well this time he was going to change that, or try to at least.

Shiro was standing outside the training room when he arrived, arms folded and leaning casually against the wall - waiting for _him_ , Lance had no doubt. Was it a fluke, or had Shiro known he’d be coming? A Black Paladin thing, or just a Shiro thing? Lance could only guess.

Sweat had cooled at Shiro’s temple, a few salty crystals that had gone unnoticed when he’d toweled off after his inevitable spar with Keith glittered in the light. It was a good sign. It meant that Shiro had already spoken with Keith and helped soothe whatever residual anger there’d been from the fight, had given him advice. Shiro was good at that, particularly with Keith; he was one of the very few who could calm Keith and make him see reason. Lance was grateful for it.

“Hey.”

Shiro’s greeting was casual, his smile gentle. He unfolded himself and popped off his resting place easily as Lance approached.

“Feeling any better?”

Lance shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, but quirked his lips a little all the same.

“A little. Is he still swinging his fancy knife around? I don’t feel like being impaled today.”

Shiro huffed a laugh. “He’s not angry, just frustrated. You know how he is.”

His features drew more composed. “This is between the two of you so I’ll let you sort it out yourselves, but if you need me you know where to find me.”

He clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder briefly and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“Just be honest, okay? I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

To Keith, there were few things as liberating as training and sparring. His body focused on the steady rhythm of combat, all worries and concerns reduced to white noise in the back of his mind. In this the world became simplistic, easier to manage. Every movement accomplished something, each parry and thrust and block expelling pent-up energy and frustration that otherwise came out so often in the form of irritability.

It was a clean ritual. Not in the physical sense, with dripping sweat and bruises and (sometimes) bloody noses, but in the way it restored his inner balance.

 _Cut, side-step, roll_.

One movement blended seamlessly into the next, graceful even.

He was too preoccupied with the Gladiator to notice Lance admiring from the side-lines, watching his every move. Too focused on his own deadly dance, the ring of metal upon solid metal, his even breathing, and the thrum of blood in his veins.

 _Counter, parry, slide_.

The movements were as natural as breathing, as if it was choreographed. He prepared to lunge for the final blow, ending the bout with fluid finality.

That is, until-

“Don’tmessup!”

“-Augh…!”

That brief moment of distraction was enough to earn him a jab to the ribs and sent him sprawling on his ass, limbs flailing gracelessly.

“LANCE! What the hell?”

He raised his bayard reflexively, but a blaster bolt caught the Gladiator in the back.

“Ha ha, you should’ve seen your face when you- oh no.”

The Gladiator had turned its attentions on Lance instead and his boyfriend squawked and turned tail, hauling ass to gain ground ahead of the now pursuing robot. Every so often Lance swiveled around to launch a volley of blasts from his bayard over his shoulder, quite a few hitting their mark, but the graze of plasma wasn’t enough to completely deter the Gladiator.

With a laborious grunt Keith hauled himself to his feet and launched after them, charging up behind the Gladiator to slice across it’s wasp-thin waist. He held it close, back-to-front, and wedged his bayard through it’s metal abdomen, leaving it wide open for Lance to take a shot from it’s front.

Within seconds it was effectively disabled and Keith called an end to the training sequence.

“You’re getting better.”

Sweat ran down his neck, warming his shoulder blades and seeping into his shirt. He tugged a fistful of the thin cotton up to wipe at it, letting cool air ghost against his overheated skin. The dull ache in his limbs was welcome, familiar. The fire in his veins had begun to recede back into a warm simmer.

Lance was watching him, smiling vaguely. He looked pleased with himself and the compliment, but wasn’t as sincere as Keith would normally expect. He seemed… troubled.

“Thanks. Nice teamwork, there.”

“Huh, if distracting me’s considered teamwork. I had it.” Keith chided casually.

Lance fidgeted, slung his bayard over his shoulder almost casually. Then dropped it back down to his side before finally dispersing it. He crossed his arms, jutted out a hip as he readjusted his stance.

It was… odd. Rare were the times when Lance didn’t just say whatever came to mind, especially to Keith. So why would he hesitate now?

 _Oh_.

Right. Their fight.

Shiro had brought it up during their sparring session, about he and Lance needing to discuss things; Lance’s timely arrival a mere hour later was too convenient. He hadn’t wanted to hear it. Still didn’t want to, honestly, but there was no avoiding it.

That’s what couples did, right? Open up to each other?

What little experience he had in that area consisted of training exercises and a few organic conversations with the team. He’d liked it, after all was said in done. He considered the other Paladins his family, and the closeness built through that and all their experiences warmed him considerably, made him feel less lonely.

But it was… hard. He was horribly out of his element, and while he enjoyed the results of sharing things with his chosen family that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed the initial process of divulging personal things about himself. It made him uncomfortable, self-conscious even. Awkward as hell.

But from the looks of it Lance wasn’t faring any better. And if they were going to share their lives together - _god_ , the idea of it was so beyond his comprehension, he was in a relationship, they were doing this, it was terribly nerve-wracking and exciting and more emotions than Keith could handle at once _Lance, Lance, I’m_ dating _Lance_ \- then they needed to be able to trust each other. Completely.

He wasn’t sure how, but Shiro had told him to just be himself. So that’s what he was going to do.

“Look,” he said, “I’m not good at this whole… talking thing. If there’s something you want to say, then just say it.”

Lance’s shoulders tensed but when he registered the softness of Keith’s tone, he eased a bit. His gaze flickered back to his boyfriend’s a moment or two, as if weighing his own words.

“We need to talk. About us. All this fighting is driving me crazy, and Hunk said some things and… He's right.”

“I love you, and it's stupid that we can't talk things out y’know? I don't- … want us to break up just because we can't talk things out.”

A jolt of unease rocked Keith, settling in the pit of his stomach. Had Lance considered that, them breaking up, before?

“Shiro said the same thing.” He mumbled, brushing a hand through his sweaty bangs.

It was difficult, all of a sudden, to look Lance in the eye. His insides squirmed, the desire to turn away, to call up the Gladiator once more, weighed heavily in his mind, but he knew better. He needed to do this -they needed to do this- and if Lance had the courage to speak up Keith would give him the respect he deserved and listen to him.

Hesitation seemed to grip at Lance himself, choking him of words, but eventually he broke through and blurted out his thoughts.

“I think....” he finally began, sucking in a breath, “that you’re amazing. I’d give anything to be half as good a pilot as you. But you know what else? You’re reckless.”

Anger colored his words. They ran together, caught between forming a rant and just getting his thoughts out as quickly as possible.

“Running off on your own - it’s dangerous, we’re a _team_. You can rely on us, you know? You got our backs, and we got yours. It’s not all on you, Keith.”

“We… we can do things, too. Maybe we’re not as great at fighting as you, but we...”

He looked down at his feet, fists clenched, and Keith inhaled sharply.

Lance had confessed to him once, back when they had started dating, about feeling inadequate and how that in turn had played into their initial rivalry. It’d been a passing comment, a simple reassurance that “no, I don’t hate you, I’ve _never hated_ you” when Keith had questioned why Lance had been so antagonistic to him when they’d first met.

He just hadn’t known Lance still felt that way.

Inadequate.

“I shouldn’t….” he sighed, cursed his own inability to put his thoughts into proper words.  
Started over, “I shouldn’t have said that, about you not doing anything earlier. It was really stupid and I didn't mean what it sounded like. I’m… sorry.”

Lance gave him his full attention then, eyes wide and blinking. Intrigued.

“The rest of you guys,” he went on mumbling, flapping his hand absently, “you think about things. You find different ways of doing stuff. I don’t. I don’t _think_ , I just do. It’s hard to sit still, especially when one of you are in trouble. But I’m working on it.”

That “patience yields focus” thing helped, and so did learning from the others. While he’d never view the world (or universe, as it were), as the other Paladins did, he could make himself wait, _think_ , consider what they might do in a situation. It was harder in the middle of battle, though.

When he looked back up Lance was smiling still, but this time it was genuine.

“I know you are. And hey, I do stupid shit all the time.”

“Pfft, you got that right.”

“Hey!”

Ah and just like that, he was smiling too. Smiling and laughing with Lance was just as easy as bickering with him. And the longer the spent together, the closer they got, the more infectious his smile became. It was nice. Through that, Keith realized just how far they’d come in their relationship, despite the miscommunication.

“And, I guess... “

_Hm?_

Lance’s brows were drawn together, his mouth a thin line. Self-consciously, he lifted a hand to card through the back of his short hair.

“I’m working on the jealousy thing. It got easier after we started dating, but I'm trying to separate what I'm capable of and admiring what you can do.”

His head tilted back to study the ceiling, leaving his free hand to gesture absently.

“It’s more like ‘yeah that’s my man!’ but then you do something stupid and it’s ‘shit that’s my man’. You get me?”

“Uh…. sure.”

The ‘shit that’s my man’ bit he could relate to. Probably best if he kept that to himself though.  
Yeah.

“Ok, your turn.” Lance urged, breaking through his thoughts. “What pisses you off about me?”

Oops. To be honest, Keith hadn’t given that much thought. So much of his anger was reactionary, albeit in part to his naturally short fuse. In the past, as he could recall, it had been due to Lance making a snarky comment or someone doing something he thought particularly stupid or selfish. It ate at him, some things more than others, but he was one to push things away and keep moving forward for the most part.

If anything, the real thing that pissed him off was… Lance pissing him off. Though he supposed that was rather vague.

And anyway, Lance had just confessed to working on fixing that; something Keith wanted to support and help him with however he could. Really was there anything else…?

 _Honesty, honesty_. He’d told Shiro he would try.

Ah.

“The flirting.”

Lance’s flirting had died down a lot ever since they’d started dating, but occasionally the smiles and awful pick-up lines crept back up. It didn’t anger him, per se, and he wasn’t precisely jealous. Lance had flirted with girls for as long as he’d known him, so it wasn’t like it was anything new. But he was exasperated and… confused.

“I don't get it. We're dating, right? So why do you still flirt with girls?”

Granted there were naturally flirty people (and he suspected Lance just might be one of those people), but it was pretty rude to flirt with someone when you were already dating someone else. And in front of the guy you were dating, no less.

Lance, at least, had the courtesy to be apologetic.

“I… didn’t know it bothered you.”

“Um, yeah? Kind of a normal thing to be bothered by.”

There was a red flush creeping over Lance’s cheeks and his eyes were blown wide as he quickly grabbed Keith’s hand.

“I don’t do it because I don’t like being with you, I swear! You never got mad at me for it so I figured you thought it was some kind of joke. Honestly I don’t even realize I’m doing it sometimes.”

He looked Keith straight in the eye, mouth set and firm and eyebrows drawn in seriousness.

“I’d _hate_ it if you flirted with anyone, and that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry, Keith. I’ll try my best to never do it again.”

His earnestness was overwhelming, so much so that Keith began to flush from it himself. He couldn’t even meet his boyfriend’s eyes any longer.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, fingers curling loosely around Lance’s.“it’s not a big deal. I knew you weren’t serious, I just wanted to know...”

“It _is_ a big deal!” Lance insisted, “From now on I’m totally 100% flirting with just you. …. And Hunk. And probably Allura. Shiro if I’m trying to get out of trouble.”  
Not that it had ever worked, but hey you never know.

  
He’d long since learned better than to try with Pidge.

Keith couldn’t help but chuckle. “At least Hunk’ll flirt back with you.”

They could be pretty over-the-top; Lance especially, but Hunk took it in great stride. It was entertaining, to say the least.

“It’d be better if my  flirted back with me.”

Heat prickled at the back of Keith’s neck. It’d been said as a joke he was sure -and yes hopefulness as well- but it still made him fidget.

“I don't know how.”

He really didn’t. The social cues often flew over his head when it was directed at him (something Lance himself had joked about in the past), and flirting had never been of much importance or interest to him enough to try to learn. If Lance’s attempts at it were bad, Keith was certain his own would be downright terrible and awkward as hell.

Lance was touchy-feely and loved to cling to people like a particularly persistent starfish, and Keith _knew_ that he could stand to try being more affectionate, but flirting was so horribly out of his element as to be laughable.

“You could try, you know.” Lance grinned, waggling his eyebrows shamelessly. “Just- I dunno, be yourself. Say a stupid joke or something. Sweep me off my feet! Woo me, oh great Cassanova!”

Long, lanky limbs draped across his shoulders lavishly and Lance gazed up at him with all the faux reverence of a Western heroine. He even batted his eyelashes.

“Oh my god.”

Lance threw his hands in the air.

“What, it’s the perfect opportunity!” he exclaimed. “There’s no one here! No one’s gonna tell us how dorky and gross we are.”

“Pidge would. She probably has cameras in here.”

And if she did she was probably laughing her ass off, wherever corner she had squirreled herself away in.

“Pidge has cameras everywhere. And it’s not like she needs a reason to make fun of us.”

“....Good point.”

To that end, Keith finally relented. He had promised himself to be more affectionate, after all.

With arms outstretched, he welcomed Lance into his embrace with a quirk of his lips. He slid a hand around his boyfriend’s bony hip to ground them, Lance throwing his own arms around Keith’s neck, and they rested their foreheads together.

“Oh you're too much. I've been seduced.” Lance keened. His breath ghosting over Keith’s lips warm and inviting as he chuckled.

“Shut up.”

Casually they brushed noses, lips, just content to feel the other against their skin. Reveling in the familiarity of closeness after the stresses of their mission and the bitterness of their fight. It seemed like more than just a few hours had passed, and only then did Keith truly begin to feel the exhaustion of the day finally begin to seep into his bones. But Lance finally anchored their mouths together, peck after insistent peck that Keith responded to in kind, feeding off of the energy and affection to deepen their kiss.

It was sweet. Soothing in a way Keith couldn’t describe. Where his training had cleansed him with the fire of sweat and the bone-deep ache within his muscles, Lance’s kisses were like a balm. Instead of the thrumming white noise of instinctual self-preservation there was a gentle natural sound, not unlike the background sounds of life he’d had at his shack, and the tension in his muscles began to ease.

It was this, it’d always been this, the moments when they were so in synch with one another that he knew they would be ok. They made a good team, and they could work on this together just like everything else.

Lance’s arms smoothed down his chest, resting just beneath his pectorals.

And then he pushed.

“Ugh, ok you know what no, I can’t do this. You’re showering. Like, right now.”

His nose was scrunched up in disgust. It'd be almost cute if it hadn't been directed at him.  
Almost.

“You just _asked_ me to hug you!” Keith exclaimed incredulously.

“And _now_ I’m saying you smell like a nasty gym sock!”

An attractive gym sock, but a smelly one nonetheless.

“I- wha- it took you that long to-”

It was so ridiculous, so _them_ , that laughter bubbled up within his throat. This was their normal, this feeling of being pleasantly taken unawares that he relished in their typical petty spats. Just lighthearted teasing.

“You don’t smell much better.”

Lance had spent half a day sweating through battle maneuvers just as the rest of them had. Sure he wasn’t quite up to par with Keith’s ripeness just yet but he was on the verge of getting pretty rank.

But of course Lance would deny it.

“Uh, excuse you I smell like sunshine and happiness.”

“You smell like cheap cologne and feet.”

“That’s the happiness.”

  
Despite his earlier sock comment, Lance remained close by Keith’s side as they strolled out of the training room towards their quarters. Their fingers brushed casually every so often, caught in a teasing game that turned up the corners of their mouths with each casual brush of contact.

“Oh yeah, Hunk made cookies.”

“Yeah? Did you leave me any?”

“Like, a half. Maybe.”

Keith nudged Lance with a shoulder.

“Asshole.”

“Yup.”

It was, of course, unreasonable to think that they wouldn’t fight again, just as it was to imagine that things were perfect now after one conversation. This was new, and it would take a lot of work. There was still plenty left to discuss. They would stumble sometimes, but that was okay - it was a step in the right direction. It was a start.

They would try, and that was enough.


End file.
